


Just Close Enough

by Tub



Series: Kyla: Red Light Series [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mutual Pining, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tub/pseuds/Tub
Summary: Staldar sleeps next to Yorsashi on a cold night. He tells himself it's just so they can get some rest. His dreams, however, say otherwise.(Can be read as 'canonical.')





	Just Close Enough

Yorsashi and Staldar always get paired with one another. This is generally the way of things in their unit. And, generally, it’s for the best. They are the most comfortable with one another, in tune with each other in a way that just makes everything so easy. So, it often goes without saying, Staldar and Yorsashi also pair off when it comes to sleeping arrangements.

 

They are out on a brief assignment between Kyla and the Boros mountains in the middle of winter. It’s a simple watch mission, monitoring for reported smugglers, but it becomes clear that the purported path is a false lead. Regardless, they make camp for the evening, coping with the cold as best they can. Staldar finds, for the most part, the cold doesn’t bite at him so keenly as the rest of the unit, who are wracked with shivers. Yorsashi only fares marginally better than the elves, who quake in their boots, covering even their sensitive ears. Staldar would never admit it, but this amuses him just a touch, watching his fellow soldiers wiggling and stomping and breathing into their palms in futility to keep their extremities warm, trying to stand at attention with chattering teeth and ruddy noses.

 

Staldar knows the rest of the unit would hate it, knows that in reality it would just make the trek back into the city a pain, it’s not a logical whim, but he hopes for snow.

 

Staldar and Yorsashi take first watch, which is predictably quiet and passes with no issue. Staldar, statuesque as ever, hardly reacts to the evening air, but Yorsashi has a harder time of it, even huddled up by the low campfire. A small pang of worry tugged at Staldar, but he ignores this, reminding himself that the green dragonborn is tougher than he seems. But when their watch comes to an end and they bed down in their little tent, that concerned feeling grows. Even bundled up in his bedroll, sheltered from the worst of the winter air, Yorsashi shivers, shifting restlessly as sleep eludes him.

 

Staldar tells himself that what he does next is purely pragmatic, that he’s simply ensuring the well-being of his teammate (and it has nothing to do with the way his chest aches when he sees Yorsashi suffer, that he selfishly wants to ease that ache).

 

Without a word, Staldar gets up and crouches to drag his bedroll over to Yorsashi, who looks up at him questioningly.

 

“What are you doing?” Yorsashi whispers, sitting up on one elbow.

 

“The cold is keeping you from sleeping. If we lie closer together, you won’t be so cold and can hopefully get some proper rest,” Staldar murmurs matter-of-factly, laying back down. A complicated mix of emotions pass over Yorsashi’s face, which Staldar can only just make out in the dark. First, he looks surprised and relieved, then slightly bashful, perhaps embarrassed. He shifts just a bit closer, pressed together with only thick blankets separating them. Staldar can feel Yorsashi's trembling this close, and swallows the urge to reach an arm out and pull the smaller dragonborn to him. ‘ _ This is sufficient. This is enough.’ _

 

“Thank you,” Yorsashi sighs. Staldar only hums quietly in response. He’s hoping Yorsashi doesn’t hear how hard his heart thumps against his sternum.

 

They lapse back into quiet, only accompanied by the gentle sounds of the night and soft breathing. Yorsashi’s shudders subside, and soon his breathing becomes deep and even. Staldar falls asleep as well, now assured that the cold would no longer be a problem.

 

Staldar rarely dreams-- at least, rarely has vivid, memorable dreams. Sometimes Yorsashi would describe his own dreams to Staldar, often in great detail, retelling some of the odd things he had imagined in the night. But when asked to describe his own, Staldar never has much to tell.

 

For some time, he drifts in that dreamless space, but then he’s in a snow laden forest, ground and tree limbs blanketed in glittering white snow. But, in the way of dreams, when he steps there’s no crunch of snow, not really. He doesn’t feel the cold, doesn’t feel the wetness or compacting of snow under his feet. But it’s bright and beautiful. He feels light, at peace, treading between the trees effortlessly.

 

Someone calls his name, or what he perceives as his name, and he turns.

 

Yorsashi is standing amidst the trees. He’s dressed down in the summer version of their basic uniform. Like Staldar, the cold doesn’t seem to affect him as he smiles across the way, waving at Staldar. Staldar waves back, or thinks he does, and starts towards him, but suddenly Yorsashi ducks behind a tree. Confused, Staldar trots over, but Yorsashi has disappeared. Hearing a laugh, Staldar whips his head around, and Yorsashi is peeking from behind another tree a few yards off, giggling at Staldar’s confusion, beckoning. Staldar feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, realizing the game. He gives chase.

 

Yorsashi darts away, still laughing, and Staldar can’t help but laugh too, a sense of elation filling him, racing and weaving between the pines. Before long, he’s right on Yorsashi’s heels, and right as Yorsashi looks back, eyes shining with mirth, Staldar lurches forward to grab him, but the momentum turns it into more of tackle. They end up falling breathlessly into the snow, Staldar careful not to crush the smaller dragonborn.

 

But when Staldar focuses on Yorsashi, lying beneath him, there’s not a stitch of clothing between them, and Yorsashi has fixed him with an intense look, their faces so close together, breath mingling. Suddenly, not only is it simply not cold, it’s  _ hot _ . Heat rushes through him, and before he can be overcome by embarrassment, Yorsashi pulls him even closer until they are flush together. He says something against his jaw, but Staldar doesn’t quite understand the words, not that it matters with Yorsashi pressing his nose into his neck, hands sliding down his chest, and Gods, he feels like he can hardly breathe and there’s no way this is happening, no way he could let himself have this, no way Yorsashi could ever--

 

One of Yorsashi’s hands wanders down, and down, and then his hand is  _ there _ , brushing against him so gently, and he whispers something into his ear that he does understand.

 

_ “I want you, too…” _

 

And that’s all it takes, the moment shatters, and  _ he  _ shatters, his body jerking and pulsing, and he really can’t breathe, can’t even move, paralyzed by the flames that seem to lick up his body.

 

“Staldar?” A hand touches his shoulder.

 

And then he’s confused but still overwhelmed, skin tight and twitching, in paroxysm, still panting, blinking into darkness, and Yorsashi is looking at him still, but it's different, his expression is wrong, worried, and it’s dark. Finally his body relaxes back against his bedroll, limbs heavy and tired, and he finds his voice, hardly more than a sleepy croak.

 

“W-what--,” but he stops, not completely sure what he’s asking. Yorsashi seems to relax, but still looks concerned. They’re somehow closer than they were before, and Staldar wonders vaguely if Yorsashi had maybe been seeking more warmth in his sleep, or perhaps he had done it.

 

“I think you were having a nightmare. I woke up when you kicked a bit, not hard or anything, but I thought that was rather unlike you. And then you made a sound that made me worry, so, uh, I thought I would wake you. I hope that was okay.” His voice is hushed, apologetic as he explains.

 

A stone made of shame and guilt forms in his gut as he puts the pieces together, the dream finally shaken off. The cooling, sticky evidence of his sin makes itself known against his hip, smallclothes dampened and clinging in a disconcerting way. The brief glow he felt is quickly smothered by ashen, acrid mortification. He quickly rolls away from Yorsashi, clearing his throat.

 

“I-- forgive me, Yorsashi, for waking you. And for causing you undo concern.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Staldar. I was just taken by surprise, you’re usually so still and quiet. Do you remember what your dream was about?”

 

The answer to this question was ‘yes,’ of course. There was no way he would  _ ever _ be able to forget, and right now, he was still living in the shadow of it. His body practically hums with it. Only once before had this happened, years ago, but that had been nothing like this, not nearly so intense, so visceral, and certainly not blurring the line between dream and reality.

 

“No, I don’t.” He hates telling lies, but he’d sooner die than tell a single soul what had just transpired, much less Yorsashi.

 

“Mm. You usually don’t, I guess. Peculiar.” Yorsashi believes it. Good. Staldar wants to put this behind him as quickly as possible. Yorsashi sits up, stretching and yawning. “The sun will be rising soon. Want to get an early start?”

 

All Staldar really wants in that moment is to steal away and deal with the mess he made. He prays that all the layers will be enough to hide the offending spot until he can take care of it. He sits up with a sigh.

 

“Might as well.” Yorsashi just offers a comforting smile, before pulling the tent flap back and gasping.

 

“Oh, it snowed!”

 

Staldar leans forward and sees that it’s true. Roughly an inch of it covered the ground, not enough to be that snowy blanket he so craved, but enough to cover most of the leaf litter, pine needles, and grass, and dust the leaves and branches of trees. The two elves who had taken final watch have some snowflakes stuck to them, miserable looks on their faces. They notice Yorsashi.

  
“ _ Tch _ , yeah, the hike back to the city is going to be miserable,” Staldar hears one of them say. “Better bundle up as best you can.”

 

Yorsashi nods and sits back down to pull another pair of socks (well, as much as you could call them ‘socks,’ made to accommodate their claws).

 

Staldar begins curling up his bedroll, feeling dirty, but decidedly unable to do much about it.

 

He fantasizes about being buried under several feet of snow.


End file.
